Kidnapped
by KPT
Summary: "The blood stung his eyes, and he felt that cool, sharp, knife come down once more across his skin. Again, again, again. And Ed couldn't even scream." Playing the game set for him, will Roy be able to save Ed in time? Or will he be too late?
1. Kidnapped

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of FMA, if you haven't noticed :P

**Summary: **"The blood stung his eyes, and he felt that cool, sharp, knife, come down once more across his skin. Again, again, again. And Ed couldn't even scream." Roy finds out that Ed has been kidnapped. Playing the game that's been set out for him, will he be able to save Ed, or will he be too late?

**My first real attempt at finishing a multi-chapter story. Completely dropped War-torn Soul. Don't like it anymore. :3 Anyway, please enjoy!**

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><p><em>Roy staggered forward, his right leg dragging in protest. <em>

_His breathing was haggard and his eyes unfocused, as blood and sweat dripped from his forehead into his line of vision. He took another step then lurched forward, his battered leg giving out on him._

_ He looked up and found himself on the ground. He couldn't remember falling. He didn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything. He could only feel the pull in his mind, constantly urging him to 'hurry up, faster, hurry up'. _

_Roy lay there, puffs of white fog exiting through his open, panting lips. He wanted to stay there. To lay on the cold concrete and welcome sleep. Sleep. That sounded nice. _

_He shook his head, before lifting himself on his hands and knees, then painfully back up to his feet. He couldn't stay here. He had to get Fullmetal. He had to get him now. It could already be too late. _

_Roy took another faltering step, and dragged on._

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><p>He had had enough.<p>

Every time Roy had finished a pile of papers Hawkeye placed on his desk, she would come right back and give him more.

He tapped his pen, held lightly between his forefinger and his thumb, against the wooden desk, the sound following the beat of the rain rapping against the office window. He sighed loudly, something he had been doing repeatedly for the past thirty minutes. He had been at it for eight hours already, and staring at the same document for about forty-five minutes. He was pretty sure that he would go insane if he kept this up.

"You know, sighing and staring at the same document for forty minutes is not going to get it done." Riza stated.

"Can I go home?" Roy whined, leaning forward. Never looking up from her work to look at her superior, she answered stoically,

"I'm sorry, sir. But you know you cannot leave until all the paper work for next week's meeting is completed."

He sighed slowly through his nose. Why the hell was he even doing this? He was made to fight, not sit at a god forsaken desk all day.

From across the room, Roy heard his phone ring, not having the will to get up and answer it. He rested his head in his palm, covering his eyes.

"Sir, the phone's ringing." Riza called to him.

Several beats

"Answer it." he grunted.

She nodded, knowing he couldn't see it from behind his hand, as she walked to the receiver and picked up the phone.

"Colonel Mustang's office, Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye speaking." A few seconds of silence, before she said,

"Colonel, Alphonse Elric is on the line. He would like to speak with you."

Roy groaned and swiped his hand down his face. "Give it." he grunted, waving his hand out.

She walked to him, holding the receiver, placing it on his desk and handing the phone to Roy.

"Hello?" he said tiredly into the speaker.

"_Hello, Colonel? This is Alphonse Elric._"

"Yes, I know. What do you need?" The line was silent for a second, before Al's timid voice came through.

"_…Brother's gone missing. I don't know where he is._"

Roy sat back, raising a brow. "Missing? Since when?"

"_Well, about three days ago I asked him to go out and buy some cat food. I had found another stray and kept it for a bit. Brother wasn't too happy when he found out._"

Roy rolled his eyes teasingly. It was so like Al.

"_But he said I could keep him until the rain stopped. So because I ran out of food, I asked him to go out and buy some. And he hasn't come back since then._" Al said, his voice shaking slightly as he remembered the last he had heard from his brother.

"Three days? Alphonse, if he had gone missing for that long, why didn't you contact me or anyone?"

"_Well, it's normal for Brother to go missing for a bit. He likes to wander off on his own to think sometimes. But usually it's just for a day and he always comes back. I thought that maybe something happened for a while, but decided to wait a while to see if I was wrong._"

Roy frowned, Alphonse's irresponsibility irking him just slightly. "Knowing the little shrimp, he probably got lost or fell in a ditch and is too short to get out." he said, half-heartedly trying to quench his own fear rising in the pit of his stomach.

"_Colonel, please don't joke like that. I'm really worried about him._"

Roy sighed. "Right. I'm sorry. Just trying to lighten things up. I'll keep my eye out for him. I'll tell you if I find anything."

Though physically impossible, Roy could hear a slight smile in Al's voice through the speaker.

"_Thankyou so much, Colonel. I hope he's okay._"

Roy smiled softly. "Me too. Good bye, Alphonse_._" he said before placing the phone down.

He groaned, leaning back in his chair.

"Has something happened, sir?" Riza asked, picking the receiver up from the desk and placing it back to it's proper place.

"Edward's gone missing. Three days now. Alphonse's getting worried."

Riza turned back, eyes slightly widened. "Missing?"

"Yup." he replied, pushing himself back up to lean on his desk. "I told him I'd call if I found anything."

"Really now? I hope Edward will be alright." she said, going back to filing her papers.

Roy picked his pen back up, staring back at the horrible black words on the document, not really paying mind to what they said. He couldn't concentrate. Fullmetal was missing. His mind already began working, gears turning to figure a way to find out what had happened to his young alchemist.

"Yeah," he said, placing his pen back down. "Me too."

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><p><strong>Oooohhhh so what has happened to Ed? Well, obviously kidnapped, hence the title 'Kidnapped' :P Anyway, please tell me if you like it, so I can see if it's worth continuing! Thankyou!<strong>


	2. Let the Game Begin

Edward opened his eyes.

His head was pounding and he couldn't remember anything. His eyes focused and he looked around, trying to find anything to indicate his current whereabouts.

Black, Black, Black.

Helpful.

Where the hell was he? How did he get here?

He sighed, leaning forward to get up from his sitting position, but finding he couldn't. He struggled to lean forward again, grunting when he finally discovered that he was bound to a chair. Or at least what he thought was a chair, he couldn't tell in this damn darkness. He found he could not move his left arm from behind his back; that was what tied him to what he was sitting on. And upon moving his right arm to rub his aching head and hearing no creaking of metal, he discovered that his automail had been removed.

Great. Fucking great. So not only was he in total darkness, but now he couldn't even transmute anything to see or get himself free.

Ed closed his eyes, trying to remember how the hell he even got here. Oh yeah. Now he remembered. That stupid cat had told him to get Alphonse some food 'cause they ran out.

Ed furrowed his brows. No wait. That wasn't right.

_Alphonse_ had told him to get the _cat_ some food 'cause they ran out. There we go. And on his way back, he was cursing under his breath on how stupid rain was, and how his ports ached, and how he hated Mustang, and how he wished those damn cats didn't make him sneeze all the time, and how he hated that he was just getting irritated about everything. Then a man stepped in front of him. He saw his hand go up with a…metal pipe was it?…then…nothing….

Edward breathed in before calling out, "Hello? Is anyone there?" He listened to his echo bounce back to him, the sound only making his headache worse. God, this sucked. How long had he been out?

Judging how bad his head hurt and how the throbbing intensified, he was hit pretty hard. That probably meant he had been out for a couple hours or so. Maybe even a day. Al had to be so worried. About that cat having no food. Fuck.

"Hello? Anyone out there? Heelloooo? He-"

A large garage-like door began opening in front of him, and he squinted at the bright light seeping through. Slowly, as the door raised itself up, he saw the shadow of two feet. When the door was completely open, Ed heard an incredibly eerie, maniacal voice call out,

"Why hello there, Fullmetal Alchemist."

The shadow stepped closer, before stopping in front of Edward. He looked up, recognizing this man as the same one from earlier. Now that he got a better look, he didn't look too sane. His hair was dark and ragged, reaching past his ears in tangled, untamed knots. His skin was a starchy pale, and he had light brown freckles lining his cheeks. His dark navy shirt was tattered and torn, as were his pants. Looking closely, Ed could see that the man had lost his left arm up to his elbow, the skin healed, but still a soft tender leather than Ed remembered having been on his own body before the automail surgery. Everything about him just sent shivers down Ed's spine.

"Who are you? And why am I-" Edward was cut short by a metal pipe colliding with his left cheek.

His eyes widened, tasting a trickle of blood seep from his mouth and from the slit in his cheek. He swiftly turned his head back, fixing a leveled glare at the older man. "Why you…" he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. It was all he could do, seeing how he was completely unable to move. He would've beat the shit out of him if he could.

The man, called Jerone, chuckled, before breaking into hysteric laughter.

"I just thought we could play a little game." he said, his voice raspy and tight. Ed raised his brow, asking apprehensively,

"A game? What kind of game?"

Jerone laughed again. That voice. That laugh. That uncanny smile he wore. It wasn't normal. "You'll see…You'll see real soon…"

And he lifted the pipe once more.

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><p>Roy rested his head in his hands.<p>

It was normal for Edward to disappear for a day, Al had said. That he always came back. But so far it had now been _four _days and he had _not_ come back.

Was he running away from something? But from what? Had he and Alphonse gotten in a fight? No, the younger boy would've said something had that been the case. Al wasn't the type to leave out important details.

So what? It was safe to assume that this wasn't Ed's doing. So then it had to be…

The boy had been kidnapped.

The thought alone scared Roy, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

But who? Who would kidnap him? It's not like there was someone out there to get him, right? Ed hadn't done something stupid to piss someone off again, right? Roy frowned. That was highly unlikely. Edward was always doing something stupid. Thinking again, there were probably plenty of people out for his hide. But damn it, there were too many people to figure out who!

If he was kidnapped, there was the case of figuring the reason. The culprit probably wanted something, and was using Ed as ransom. And to coax who they were after, they would hurt him to get what they desired. Damn it.

His head was spinning, all these thoughts flooding his head at once. If only he could get some insight, some clue, as to what had happened to his youngest subordinate, then he could at least know where to start on the investigation. But there was nothing. He didn't know where Ed was when he was abducted, he didn't know who did it, he didn't know why.

Suddenly his phone rang. Roy reached for it slowly, tiredly picking it up and bringing it to his ear. He didn't want to talk to anyone now, he wanted to think.

"Colonel Mustang's office, this is Colonel Mustang speaking."

The line was silent for a bit before an erratic voice came through. "…Hello, Roy Mustang."

"Hello?" Roy answered back. He could hear metal scraping against concrete in the back.

"One of your subordinates has gone missing, am I correct?" Roy's eyes widened.

"How do you know about that?"

A soft, eerie, almost demonic laugh was heard.

"See, I have a little game in mind."

'_A game?_'

"Can you save Edward Elric in time… or will he be dead by the time you find him?"

Roy's heart skipped, his grip tightening on the phone. "You have him? Who are you? Tell me where he is!"

That same laugh. Roy felt his skin crawl.

"Play the game…and you'll find out."

"Wait! Tell me-"

_Beep Beep Beep_

Roy slammed the phone back down. So he knew where the kid was. He had him. He was the abductor.

Roy leaned back, crossing his legs and folding his hands under his chin. His heart beat rapidly, thumping loudly in his ears.

'_…or will he be dead by the time you find him?_'

Roy tightened his fingers and took deep steady breaths, trying to quench the tightening feeling growing in his stomach. Like hell he'd be dead. Roy would not let him get hurt.

He wouldn't.

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><p><strong>these are just events leading up! It'll get better soon, I promise! So please stay tuned to find out what happens! Thanks!<strong>


	3. This act

Edward turned his head, coughing another mouthful of blood to the ground, the warm red liquid making a _splat_ as it hit the cold concrete floor.

He wiped his mouth on his shoulder, looking back up at Jerone who stood there , scraping the edge of his metal pipe along the ground. The loud screech sound it made was almost deafening, sounding akin to that of long fingernails digging down an old school chalkboard, and Ed winced and his body crawled as he listened to it. His breathing was labored, his breath coming out in smoky white fog.

He was pretty battered now, taking in many days worth of meaningless abuse. His tied arm and exposed chest had bloomed purple and yellow bruises, some of the broken skin oozing trickles of blood and greenish-yellow discharge. He had a large gash on his forehead, dripping crimson down the bridge of his slightly swollen nose. The area surrounding his right eye was turning a nasty dark blue, while the white of his left had smears of red from burst blood vessels. He was actually in a lot of pain, though he would never dare show it.

"Is that...is that all you got?" he murmured.

Jerone glared down, the incessant screeching coming to a halt. Those eyes. "What did you say...?"

Ed smirked, a small wavering laugh escaping his chapped bloody lips. "You h-heard me...'could barely feel a thing..."

Jerone lifted his leg, pounding his foot into Edward's stomach. Ed choked, blood expelling from the back of his throat.

"Did you feel that, you little shit?" Jerone grinned, watching as Ed's head went down, dry heaving but then vomiting blood because there was nothing in his stomach to throw up.

Ed didn't know how long he had been in that dark cold room, but he was guessing a little over a week now. He assumed that Jerone only came to beat him once a day, so counting the soft lines he drew on the ground with his splattered blood, it would be nine.

So nine days.

He was already so exhausted, having not eaten or drunken anything those past nine days. His stomach stung in protest, feeling like it had already begun to eat itself in. His throat was so dry, his voice coming out in painful, raspy, whispers. The only thing that kept his parched throat hydrated was the pass of blood every time Jerone whacked him a few times in the chest or stomach. It definitely wasn't good, but it helped.

Edward heard the metal pipe screech up from the ground, then felt his head pushed up.

"You know..." Jerone said, slowly swiping the end of the metal across the blood on Ed's forehead, making sure to dig lightly into the wound where it oozed from. Edward winced

"...I'm getting tired of your little tough-guy act." He dropped the bloodied end to the floor, scraping it across the ground once again. Ed's voice staggered.

"wh-wh-who says...it's an act..." he coughed, not liking the way his breath hitched at the end.

Truthfully, he was scared out of his mind. He couldn't remember a time where he was ever this frightened, aside from when he had first discovered his brother's missing body and his severed leg or the Barry the Chopper incident. Their eyes held the same blood lust, the same maniacal vile that only a murderer could have. But back then, he could run. He could leave that place and fight back. Here, he was bound to a chair and being beaten senseless with no chance of escape. His heart beat widely in his chest, but he kept his cool.

"Are you implying something, Fullmetal Alchemist?" The pipe screeched loudly, its disapproval of moving against the concrete.

That sound. Stop making that sound.

Edward didn't answer, gazing into the manic madness that grew in the older man's eyes.

"We'll just have to teach you another lesson, won't we?"

He lifted the pipe once more, Ed's own blood swinging up and splatting against his face. His eyes widened as he watched the metal come down.

No. No please no...

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><p><strong>Good Lord i suck at writing torture scenes...blah. well, right after I post this, I'll be working on the next chapter. Please Enjoy!<strong>


	4. No Ed

The cat seated on the counter purred, rubbing it's head satisfyingly under Alphonse's large leather hand.

Al had finally gone out himself to buy the cat some food, and he knelt down to fill the bowl at his feet back up. The cat, whom Al had named Piper, jumped from the top of the ledge, nuzzling its face in the food it consumed. He looked down at the cat with soft, glowing red, eyes, and sat down next to Piper, his body clanking against the tile.

He didn't know what to do. It had now been ten days since his brother had disappeared. What in the world had happened to him? He got up, his metal legs clanking as he paced the kitchen agitatedly. He glanced to the phone seated in the hallway.

Maybe he should call the Colonel, see if he found anything pertaining to his brother. No, he couldn't. He had called him almost every day, and the answer was always the same: "_Sorry, Alphonse. Haven't heard anything. I'll keep you updated._" It's not like the answer would change in one day.

And besides. Even if it had, the Colonel would've called Al first. It was what he said. It was the least he could do. But no info, hence no call.

Al gingerly sat back down, rubbing behind Piper's ears.

...

But he was so anxious!

He quickly stood, grabbing the phone and dialing the number he remembered by heart. He waited a few beats, listening to the ring the dial tone from the other line.

"_Hello?_" the receptionist answered.

"Hello, um...this is Alphonse Elric. I'd like to be put through to Colonel Roy Mustang, if you wouldn't mind."

"_Of course. I'll need the appropriate codes before patching you through._"

Alphonse told her the code as he had these past ten days, the one his brother had made up, made especially for military personnel only. The lady on the other line punched in the codes, finally saying, "_I'll be putting him through now._"

"Thank you," Alphonse said, bowing his head slightly, even though the receptionist couldn't see. Almost immediately Al heard the receiver on the end pick up, before hearing,

"_Hello, this is Colonel Roy Mustang speaking._"

"Oh, um...hi Colonel. This is Alphonse."

"_Oh hello, Alphonse. Wondering about Ed again, no?_"

"Yes..." he responded, immediately regretting that he even called in the first place. The colonel's voice was dull and tired. He sounded so exhausted.

"_Sorry, Alphonse. Nothing today either._" Al raised his leather hand apologetically.

"Oh no, its alright! I was just wondering, that's all. Sorry for bothering you." The colonel chuckled through the speaker.

"_It's quite alright, Al. I know you're worried. But I'll definitely call you if something comes up._"

"Thank you, sir. Good bye." Al said, placing the phone into it's receiver.

He strode back into the kitchen sluggishly, as sluggishly as a suit of armor could, and sat back down to Piper. The cat paid no mind to it's temporary master and continued eating.

See? The answer was exactly the same. No Ed. What was Alphonse thinking, bothering the Colonel like that when he's already so busy. He felt kind of guilty now, complaining to Roy and asking him for help.

Ed couldn't have possibly run away. He wouldn't leave Al, would he? Ed wouldn't leave to find the stone on his own...

...or even make Al search for it on his own...

...would he?

Alphonse shook his metal helmet for a head, ridding the thought from his brain that wasn't really there. Brother wouldn't do that. He had promised they would look for it together, become whole again together. Ed would never abandon him like that. So the only real possibility was that...

Something bad had happened to him.

Of course. That was the only explanation for what could have caused him to disappear. Something bad had happened to his older brother. And it was all Al's fault.

If only he didn't leave Ed to go buy food by himself. If only he didn't keep that stupid cat. If only he followed his instincts in thinking something was wrong on day one. Then maybe there would still be time to act. Time to save him.

Al lifted his hand and punched the ground. Hard.

The white porcelain tile under him cracked, and little Piper jumped, immediately running to take refuge in the living room. It was all his fault.

Everything that could happen to Ed from here on out was his fault.

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><p>"It's quite alright, Al. I know you're worried. But I'll definitely call you if something comes up."<p>

"_Thank you, sir. Good bye._" he heard Al's hurt voice say through the speaker.

Roy gave the phone back to Riza and she placed it on the receiver.

"Alphonse has been calling a lot lately, hasn't he?" Breda said from across the room.

"Yeah_, _he has." Roy responded, too tired lift his head up.

It was apparent to everyone in his squad that he was taking this just as hard. He hadn't slept well, or even at all, the past few days. His hair was disheveled and mussy, a sign that he hadn't showered lately. His eyes were currently shut, but behind those lids they were bloodshot and had dark circles growing around them. His uniform was hung sloppily on his frame, and his face looked pale and tired. Sure signs that he was stressing over Edward's disappearance.

"Why don't you just tell Al the truth, boss? It'd be easier on you if the kid could help look for the kid." Havoc suggested, looking at his superior.

Roy opened his eyes slightly. Havoc was right. If Al could help, it'd take a great deal off his shoulders. But thinking again, what could he do anyway? Roy hadn't gotten another call since the first one six days ago, staring agitatedly at his phone for hours on end. He still couldn't forget what the mysterious man had told him.

"_…or will he be dead by the time you find him?_"

He had promised himself that he would not let Edward get hurt, but he didn't know how long he could keep that up if he didn't even know where to start to look for the boy. When the call had ended, Roy immediately got into work, ordering his subordinates to do anything and everything to trace that call. But it was useless. The call had been made through an unidentified line.

This only angered the already pissed off Colonel, adding oil to the raging fire. In his anger, he yelled at whoever had told him of the inability to trace the line; poor little Sergeant Fuery. Everyone in the room stopped, turning wide-eyed at their usually calm and collected superior. Fuery had immediately jumped, apologizing for not being able to do his job correctly, while Riza grabbed the Colonel's shoulder, telling him his outbreak was unreasonable. Roy widened his eyes, sitting back down and holding his head in his hands.

"_…sorry._" he had mumbled out, simpering down his anger.

Riza looked at him with saddening eyes.

"_I know you're worried for Edward's well-being. We all are. But don't let your anger cloud your control._" Roy sighed into his sweating palms.

"_Yeah…yeah, I know._" he breathed.

So basically he had no lead. If he had no lead, neither did Alphonse. And the news of his brother's abduction and the man who threatened to kill him would only make things worse on the younger boy. Roy sighed.

"I can't." he finally said. "It'd be too hard on him."

Havoc smiled sadly at Roy's simple show of concern, and continued with his work. Riza stepped behind Roy, placing a soft, comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be alright, Colonel. We'll find Ed, don't worry."

He tilted his neck back to sadly smile at her. There was nothing they could do. He understood that. All they could do was wait. Wait for word, and wait for a call.

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><p><strong>Damn this ending sucked ass! Thankyou so much to skywright for pointing out a little (more like big) error i made! i had accidentally replaced chapter 1 with chapter 3's contents! _ But anyway, i hope this you enjoyed this too! More Ed torture and some explanations as to what's going on in the next chapter! Thankyou so much!<strong>_  
><em>


	5. Stay away from me

**A/N: Am I speeding this story up a bit too fast? I don't know. Tell me if you think the plot is going too fast pace. {[Because it wouldn't correspond with this chapter, I had to change the ending of chapter 4...now it sucks even more. :P Please enjoy :D]}**

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><p>It was becoming a basic routine to Edward.<p>

Wait alone in the dark, hold his tongue against the pain, scribble another red line on the floor, then wait some more. It had been going on for almost three weeks now, seventeen little marks, that it was becoming a part of his mind. A part of himself.

His entire body was now completely marred. His malnourished frame was thin beyond what was considered unhealthy, and his hair was mussed and tangled. His face, as well as his arm, torso, and leg, were almost a sickly blue color, covered with different bruises. Two of his fingers were now bent crudely, broken from a time Jerone had gotten mad. He bled from an assortment of places, and he found it hard to breath, as the inside of his nose had crusted over from dried blood. His body was filled with little cuts and cigarette burns, each turning an infectious green color. His sweat dripped from his forehead, his neck, his underarms, everywhere. The heat of the day was almost unbearable, while the cold of the night just as vicious. The metal pipe used for his mutilations lay sloppily in the corner of the room.

Jerone, Edward had come to realize, was a pretty short-tempered man. It was almost as if he could feel when Jerone's anger had flared up and he was headed to the room to release some stress on Edward's desecrated body. And right now seemed to be one of those times.

Jerone stormed into the dark room, the light beyond the door illuminating and casting shadows on the floor. He had always walked in that way, shoulders stiff and head down as he muttered profanity under his breath. But Edward had noticed something was different today.

He didn't know why, but Jerone was angrier, almost psychotic, in the way his eyes dilated and the way he strode in, staggering and tipping from side to side.

"Damn. Tha' fuckin' waitress was pullin' her leg own leg. No 'ay in hell was I gonna' walk in there an' pay thirty fucking dolla's for the damn beer." he slurred, tripping slightly on his own feet as he lifted his cigarette from between his lips.

Edward's eyes widened; as much as swollen eyes could. There was his answer.

The man was drunk out of his mind.

He stared at Jerone, who began cursing to himself, as panic rolled in. Usually Edward was good with keeping his fear in check, but if he was bad when he was sober, imagine how much worse he could get now that he was intoxicated?

Jerone faltered and looked up at Edward, seeing the young boy's eyes wide with horror. He frowned.

"An' you! The hell you thin' you're looking at? You got som'in wrong with me?" he spouted as he stumbled over, squeezing Edward's bruised cheeks with his one hand. Edward whimpered, his eyes never leaving the older man's.

"I might jus' have t' show you your place, now won' I?" he grinned, lifting the cigarette from his mouth and wrapping his arm around Ed's head to squeeze his jaws harder, forcing his mouth open.

Ed shook his head, trying to release the man's grip, but to no avail. Jerone stuck the cigarette in, pressing down on Edward's tongue with the end. Edward screamed, coughed, shuddered, as tears came to his eyes as he shook his head to try and get away, but the man just pressed harder, the embers searing the flesh of his dry and tender tongue. He finally released the pressure of the cigarette butt, pinching the end to drop the ash into Ed's open throat. His shoulders convulsed as he gagged, bending forward to throw up when Jerone stepped back.

Jerone chuckled to himself, throwing the cigarette to the ground. Edward coughed, the feel of cinder and ash irritating his burnt tongue. He raised his head pitifully, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

"Why…why are you doing this?"

Jerone stopped laughing, turning to face the boy. "Why? Why he asks!" he cracked, looking around the room as though an audience where there watching them. He bent down, grabbing Edward's hand to fiddle with one of his intact fingers. He swiftly bent it, a horrifying _crack_ sounding from the bone. "'Cause I wan' revenge."

Ed clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his scream and more tears that threatened to fall. He dropped his head back, his haggard breathing emitting in white fog.

"Eleven years ago, m' wife an' little girl were k-..killed in the Ishvalan massacre." Edward's eyes widened, as he realized just what the drunken man had revealed in his dazed state.

Killed? His wife and daughter were killed?

He didn't know if he could speak without his voice getting caught. His throat and tongue on fire, his finger stung and felt incandescent, and he was scared out of his wits. But he knew he would never get answers while Jerone was sober. Now, when he was unaware of what he was saying, was the perfect time to get his response. So he questioned on.

"But...but I had nothing to do with that!" he breathed, voice wavering a bit.

Jerone pulled his lips up into an evil smile as he teetered back and forth. "Oh no, bu' Roy Mustang did. See, he was one of 'em State Bastards who were ordered to kill whomever they saw fit." His eyes began to water.

"Me an' my family weren' even suppos'ta be caught in there! We were passin' by from vacation from Xing when the army jus' came in and started shootin' and bombin' everybody!" Jerone bent his head, soft tears dripping to the floor. "Los' my arm 'nd my family..."

Was…was he crying?

Edward couldn't believe it. In these seventeen days he had been held captive, he had never, in his right mind, thought he would ever see Jerone show any other emotion besides rage and psychotic giddiness. But maybe it was just because of his intoxicated state that messed with his emotions. Still, something akin that of sympathy and regret settled Ed's heart for the older man.

But Jerone suddenly stopped crying, a small smile playing on his lips. And the fear came again.

"Seein' as your one o' his precious 'nd valued subo'rnates, I thought we'd have a lil' fun 'fore dragging him in here to deal wit' him ma'self."

His dilated, unfocused eyes gleamed, as he pulled something small and glistening from his pocket. He lifted it, flipping it open to reveal a small blade. "Know what this is?"

Edward's eyes widened, as he tried to scoot back in his chair.

"No…get away…don't come near me!" he ordered desperately, his voice breaking.

Jerone only stepped closer, grinning as he raised the blade. "Don' worry. This'll be a lotta' fun."

"Stay back! I said get away from me!" Edward's eyes watered as he pleaded, kicking his legs in a futile attempt to keep the man away.

He screamed as Jerone swiftly brought the pocket knife down, slicing his arm.

Red blood spurted from his opened flesh, spraying onto his face. Jerone broke into hysterics, his face contorted in the most demonic smile he ever saw. Ed shook with fear.

The blood stung his eyes, and he felt that cool, sharp, knife come down once more across his skin.

Again, again, again.

And he couldn't even scream.

* * *

><p><strong>And there you have it, the reason why he's doing this in the first place. I didn't think he would've spilled the beans had he been sober, so I whiskied him up a bit. Plus his actions are more gruesome...I think..<br>**


	6. Easier to Bear

**A/N: Sorry for not noting earlier that Jerone _has_ been feeding and hydrating Ed every so often. He needs to keep him alive, doesn't he? I guess I automatically assumed everyone would realize that. Sorry for any confusion any of you have gotten by that X/**

* * *

><p>He sighed, sluggishly closing the door behind him and throwing his rain-soaked coat onto the coat rack.<p>

"Out searching again last night, eh boss?" Havoc asked, a pitying and understanding smile on his face.

Roy tramped over to his desk at the far end of the room, his wet leather shoes squeaking against the carpet. Havoc shrugged when the colonel ignored the question. It didn't matter anyway, they all knew the answer to that.

Roy had, fervently, been out almost every night since the call to search for Edward. Whether it was freezing cold, or raining heavily, it didn't matter. He searched through woods, abandoned buildings, and the labyrinths of the underground sewers. Every so often one of his subordinates, such as Breda, Havoc, Falman, or Hawkeye, would assist him in the search. But for the most part, he was on his own.

It wasn't as if they didn't want to help. Really, it wasn't. They were all just as worried for the emphatic golden-haired blond as the the colonel was. But Roy had specifically ordered,

"_Don't make any word of Edward's disappearance or the call to anyone outside this room. If news were to get out to the public, the whole military would start searching for him."_

"_If the military aided in the search, wouldn't that be easier? We'd find the him faster." Fuery had noted._

_"If that happened, who knows what that psychotic bastard would do to him. Edward's safety is our first and foremost concern_." _he answered._

So, in honor of keeping their oath to Roy, they searched late at night in small groups to keep the attention level low.

And this had taken a real toll on the condition of them all. They all were genuinely tired, red eyes and dark circles, stagnant movements, but Roy had to be the worst of them all. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that he had not slept and had a proper meal in a while. Even the other military personnel stationed in the eastern command had noticed. They had asked him if something was wrong, but Roy had left it at "_Nothing to worry about. I just haven't been getting enough sleep._" His once firm onyx eyes were now dull and bloodshot. He looked like he had lost at least seven pounds, his cheeks sunk in and his shoulder blades protruded more than usual. Everyone worried for his well-being. If this kept up, the colonel could pass out from exhaustion.

Roy collapsed into his leather office chair, resting his head in his hands as he tried to block out the pattering of rain on his window. He had followed every lead, which really weren't much, and had ended up with nothing. Occasionally on weekends, he would even leave to search in the next town over. But to no avail. The only way of knowing Edward's condition were the call's they received from the abductor, and they had only received two in the whole span of the case. And every time, the abductor had said but one thing:

"_Hurry, I don't know how much longer he can hold out._" That horrible laugh ringing through Roy's ears. Then he would hang up, leaving Roy with a frightened awareness that if he didn't hurry up soon, Edward could really die.

But really, what could he do? He couldn't find him anywhere, he couldn't trace the line, he didn't even know the damn guy's name. What else was there to do but wait for a call that he didn't know when would come?

"You know, maybe someone's been after Edward for a while. You should try asking Alphonse if Ed did something that would piss off someone." Breda suggested from across the room.

"Do you think I would be searching my ass off every night for the past two weeks if I hadn't already thought of that?"

Well, his irritability level was quite high this morning.

He released his breath slowly, calming his nerves down. "And besides. Alphonse hasn't called at all lately. I don't know where he ran off to."

"He's probably out searching, just like you." Havoc said.

Roy's heart felt for the young boy. There was no doubt he was probably worried sick about the disappearance of his brother. He had probably already pieced together that Ed had been taken, and that Roy was keeping it a secret, and so he went out to search for him himself. He groaned, leaning his head back in his chair.

"That stupid kid. Why did he have to go and get himself caught, anyway?"

The phone rang and Riza got up to answer it, seeing that Roy was in no mood or condition to. She picked it up, placing it to her ear before saying, "Hello, Colonel Mustang's office. Lieutenant Hawkeye speaking." She listened to the voice on the line, each second her eyes widening. She removed it from her ear. "Colonel," she said, walking over to him to hand him the phone. He took it, apprehensive to Riza's sudden change in attitude. "Hello?"

"_...Hello Roy Mustang._"

His eyes widened, that unforgettable tight voice resounding in his ear.

* * *

><p>Alphonse treaded slowly through the street, the rain rapping against his armored body.<p>

Seventeen days. The worst and most agonizing seventeen days of his young life.

He was losing hope. He had spent the last two weeks searching everywhere he could possibly think. But each place ended with the same heart-wrenching pull with the knowing that _Ed wasn't there_.

Alphonse had already come to terms that he may never see his brother again. That he was now alone. But it didn't make it any less harder to accept.

He stopped walking, looking up into the cloudy night sky, his eyes that weren't really eyes watching the rain droplets fall through to hit the inside of his helmet.

Was he fated to go through eternity in a god forsaken suit of armor, held there with nothing but his brother's own blood? Was he fated to live on his own, seeing the familiar faces and places that only reminded him of his brother?

He had pushed all the blame on himself. Not on Ed, not on Roy, not even on whoever had taken his brother in the first place. Just himself. He didn't want to go through the rest of his life blaming and hating whoever had caused him to be alone. By doing that, he would know that it was no one else's fault but his,

and knowing that made all of this a little easier to bear.

* * *

><p><strong>So I really didn't like how this chapter turned out. It's just Alphonse and Roy searching, for God's sake! Not much detail, I know. But really, like it said, what else are they to do but search and wait for a call? <strong>

**Anyway, things will progress a lot better in the next chapter. Stay tuned for Jerone calling Roy again, and Roy finally having a lead!  
><strong>


	7. All My Fault

**A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in updating! I was on vacay and couldn't write. Just got back today. So yeah, because I'm still in vacation mode, I'm kinda having a writer's block. I needed to get it all down though because my computer isn't saving documents. So it's either now or never. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Jerone roared with hysterics, finally sober from the adrenaline rush of his actions, as he held the knife dripping with blood.<p>

Edward trembled with fright, not daring to look up from the puddles of crimson his hazy gaze was fixed on. The boy was slashed in multiple places, and the fire that had once been flickering in his eyes was now extinguished and dead.

Inside, Edward wanted to give up. He had previously wanted to believe that he would make it out of there alive. That he would escape or someone would find him. But he was cold, starving, battered, and damaged in more ways than one. His hope was slowly fading from him as was his will to live.

He coughed, warm saliva and flecks of blood spraying onto his lap. He raised his head slightly, and saw Jerone lying on his stomach, carving the words "You little fuck" "Mustang" and "Lorie" sloppily into the ground with his knife, the horrible screeching sound making Ed wince.

Lorie. That must be his daughter. Jerone had said she was killed, along with his wife, in the Ishvalan Massacre. They were dead. Never coming back. So what was the point of revenge?

"You…you say that your daughter was killed…That you want revenge. That it was Mustang's fault. But what is hurting me gonna do?"

Jerone slowly stilled his hand, the insistent screeching coming to a stop, and looked up at the boy. That hardened gaze he gave him. Edward trembled with the fear of not knowing what kind of psychotic thoughts were going through Jerone's head. Was Ed about to make things better, or a whole lot worse?

"You know as well as I do that this was neither yours, mine, or Mustang's fault. Do you think your doing any justification in this? Nothing will bring Lorie back. You're just hurting another child to get the revenge of your own child's death. There's nothing noble about that!"

Jerone stood up, wavering on his legs. He walked over to the boy and bent down, licking some splatted blood off the corner of his mouth, and softly grabbed Ed's flesh leg. Edward flinched with the sudden contact.

"Do you even understand what you're saying?" He began. "Your saying that justification is needed for my actions, correct? You're trying to prove to me that once someone dies, they're through. Never coming back, and that there is nothing you can do about it. But what about you? Don't think I don't know what you did. I'm not so much as a dumb ass as to not look into my prey first."

Edward looked at him, trying to understand what he was saying and trying to bury the horrified feeling as the man stroked his hand up and down his leg. "What?"

"See, weren't you the one who didn't wanna leave it alone? The one who tried to do something about it? Tried to do the unthinkable and bring back your dead mother? And just look where it got you. Your arm and leg, ripped apart from your body, and your brother, now stuck for eternity in a suit of armor. Where's the rationale in that?" Jerone tightened his grip, as Edward stared, too shocked by the man's words to respond.

"And take a look at that Nina girl. You couldn't accept the fact that you let someone else die again because of you, so you went and did something about it. That poor man, murdered because a stupid brat couldn't let his feelings go. Your mother, your brother, Tucker, Nina, you just can't seem to keep things alive, can you? Yet here you are, lecturing me about justification and the necessity to let go."

"No..."

"You and me are exactly the same. Driven from our desire to feel needed and be able to give the excuse of 'at least I tried.' You and I are no different."

Edward shook his head furiously, flailing his limbs as tears snuck from the corners of his eyes. "No! I'm not like you! I'm not! We're nothing alike!"

Jerone smirked, stretching Ed's leg atop his own knee. "Oh, but you are." He brought his arm up and came down on Ed's knee with his elbow. A stomach-twisting _crack!_ resounded, bouncing off the concrete walls and floor and echoing back to them.

Edward cried out, tears streaming down his blood laden cheeks, all the while yelling "I'm not! I'm not like you!"

Jerone stood up and left the room, a stoic expression on his face as he watched Edward's shoulders shake and his leg fall to the floor with an unnatural bend. The door was left open, and Edward's cheeks glistened with tears from the light. His broken leg throbbed quickly and widely, but his tears were hardly from that.

The pain from the truth of what Jerone had said was much more agonizing than any physical harm that had been done to him so far. Because it was true. Everything was Ed's fault. Alphonse, his mother, Nina, Tucker, and so many more. It was all his fault. No matter how much he wanted to forget or throw the blame on someone else, he just couldn't. Because although he always wanted to see his mother's smiling face again, some vile thing deep inside him _had _wanted to be able to say 'I did it. I tried.' That was his ulterior motive. The reason why all this suffering and anguish began in the first place. It was to quench his own selfish desire to feel needed. Oh god, he wanted to vomit.

Jerone slowly walked in again, holding a jug and a phone. Jerone usually gave him a little bit of fluid after a day or two, forcefully draining it down Ed's throat. He brought the jug to Ed's chapped lips and tilted it, as Ed let the water swiftly pour down the his throat and spill from his mouth onto his torso. The man threw the jug aside and it clanked against the cold concrete.

"What the fuck is taking that colonel so long? Is he really gonna' wait till your dead before he comes searching?" he said, tilting Ed's head up with his finger. The boy let his eyes loll to the side, not caring what happened to himself anymore.

Jerone picked up the half-forgotten phone from the ground, and dialed a number. He placed the speaker to his ear and Ed could hear the faint steady beat of the dial tone. It was almost calming.

Jerone suddenly spoke, "…Hello Roy Mustang."

Ed slowly lifted his head, listening to Jerone's raspy voice speak. Mustang? He was calling Mustang?

"What's taking you so long? We need you over here, quick. The kid's not gonna make it much longer. You should see him. Covered in sweat and blood, slowly thinning and dying each day." He cackled into the phone.

"Roy?" Ed whispered, eyes slowly widening as he heard the colonel's usually deep and calm voice, resound frantically through the speaker. Roy was coming? Roy was coming to get Ed? But wait. Jerone wanted to…

He suddenly cried out, his voice tight and scratchy, terrified tears still eminent on his face. "Go away! Jerone! After you, Roy! Stay away!"

Ed heard the colonel's voice stop abruptly on the other line, and Jerone turned swiftly to him, eyes wide and furious. "Shut it, you little shit!" He slapped Ed's cheek and Ed in return turned his head to bite the opposing hand.

"Fuck, get off!" he yelled, dropping the phone to the ground as he shook his arm to release the boy's bite.

"_Ed? Ed is that you? What's going on?_"

Roy's voice. God, he missed that voice. He couldn't let anything happen to the colonel, whether he died or not. He would not let Roy get hurt.

Ed bit harder into the flesh before him, before letting go from the sheer pain that jolted from his leg through his entire body. Jerone pulled his foot back after finishing kicking the newly broken limb, and bent to pick up the phone and slam it onto the receiver. He scowled down at the five red dots that formed from the bite marks in his hand, turning to Ed as the boy shook with pain. Jerone stomped to him, scoffing before he pulled his hand back and brought it forward, punching Ed so hard his chair tipped over. The boy and the wood fell to the ground with a loud thud, his head falling next to one of the carved in words.

Ed watched Jerone leave, the light in the room slowly diminishing, as his tears streamed down and puddled into the name "Lorie" near his cheek.

* * *

><p>"<em>Go away! Jerone! After you, Roy! Stay away!<em>"

"_Shut it, you little shit!_"

Roy tightened his grip on the phone, as he finally heard the beautiful voice he longed to hear. In pain and tight from what Roy assumed was crying, but still beautiful.

"Ed? Ed is that you? What's going on?"

He heard the man, he supposed was Jerone, cry out in pain, before hearing struggling, Ed's pained yelp, and finally, the call cutting off. Roy's heart broke slightly as he listened to the monotone beeping that signaled the call's end. Everyone in the room stared wide-eyed at him, whose faced mirrored their's before he slammed the phone down.

"Colonel….was that Ed?" Havoc's wavering voice asked.

The voices on the other line were so loud that everyone in the room had heard the conversation. Roy didn't answer.

"He said…he said 'Jerone was after you. Stay away.'" Breda called.

_Stay away. After you._

"Sir, judging from the conversation, it's clear now that Ed isn't the one he's really after." Riza said, her firm voice wavering slightly.

All eyes in the room widened in sudden realization.

_After you. Stay away._

Of course. It all made sense. Why would Jerone have been calling him in the first place? He wanted Roy. Not Ed, Roy.

Roy did something to put Ed in danger. Roy, not Ed.

He slammed his fist into the red oak desk. "Damn it!"

Why the hell hadn't he realized sooner? Ed wouldn't have gotten this hurt. Ed was just a _child_. Although he was the Fullmetal Alchemist and a child prodigy, he would still be rendered useless because of his lack of experience in a situation like this. Plus, he had that automail. In battle, they were formidable weapons. They aided him better than any human limb could. But take those away, and he's just a smart-mouthed kid with two stumps. God, Roy was so stupid!

_Ed Ed Ed. _

It was his fault. But...

What did he do wrong?

* * *

><p><strong>Wow um...not liking this. But like I said in the beginning of the chapter, need to get it all down now. See see? I added in Jerone giving him water! yay mee! But the placing for it is still bad. But I'm not giving a damn anymore! I'll probably edit it a little if I feel like it after publishing. mmmaaayyybbbbeeeee...<strong>


	8. Dreams are my reality

**A/N: I like the concept of this chapter, but I just couldn't put it into the right words. Please tell me if there is anything you think I should add or change in it, or any of the chapters. I'd love to be able to make this story the best it could be :D  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Riza turned to her superior, hearing his countless attempts to stifle a yawn behind his hand. His dazed eyes drooped lazily and his head nodded slowly as he battled to stay awake.<p>

"He's not gonna last." Havoc said, resting his chin on his hand, staring boredly at the struggling man.

"I'll give him five minutes," Breda betted, Falman and Fuery nodding in agreement.

As if on cue, they all jumped, hearing a sudden loud bang from the red oak of the colonel's desk. "And there he goes," Havoc sighed. Roy slowly lifted his head, rubbing his battered forehead. He looked around, not really focusing on his surroundings, as he rested his head on his arms, tousling his fingers through his dark mussy hair. They waited a moment, watching him fervently until they heard a soft snore emit from him.

"Colonel," Riza called.

Roy didn't answer.

"Colonel," she tried again.

No answer, just uneven snoring.

She strided over to his sleeping form before bending to his ear, saying a little more loudly, "Colonel." He groaned, turning his head away from her. Riza sighed, reaching her hand to her holster and pulling out her revolver, cocking it back to engage it.

He snorted and immediately jumped at the click of the gun, blood-red eyes searching around. "W-wha-?"

"Sir, you've been drifting for some time now. I think you should get some rest." she suggested as she placed the gun back in its holster.

He turned to her groggily, clearing his throat and slapping his cheek in an attempt to awaken himself. "No, no I'm fine. I have a lot of work to do."

"Sir-"

"She's right, boss. You aren't much use if you're fallin' asleep like that. Go on, get some sleep. We'll take care of things for now." Havoc inputted, waving his hand towards the door.

Roy quieted, still not aware of things. _Need to find Edward_

Sleep...

_Edward's in trouble_

Sleep...

_Jerone_

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep...

"Yeah…yeah okay." he agreed dryly, fatigue finally getting the better of him as he got up and walked towards the door, Riza following close behind. The room's occupants sighed as the door clicked shut.

They walked in silence towards Roy's "secret place of rest", as the colonel shuffled through the East Quarter hallways, dragging his feet along the ground. There really was no easier way to say it. He looked absolutely disgusting. Not only was he disarrayed from the absence of sleep and a proper shower, but he was thinning from the lack of a decent meal and piled on stress from his office work, then the late night searchings for Edward. Riza shifted the documents in her hands, finally speaking up from the quietness.

"Sir, you need to take better care of yourself. You haven't had sleep, a legitimate meal, or a decent shower in who knows how long."

"I'll live, lieutenant. Edward's well-being is my first concern." He grumbled, not looking back to her. He frowned as he felt his legs grow heavier and his eyes threaten to close shut once more.

She sighed, as Roy opened the door to the room. "No Sheska today? I'll have to be careful so I don't get caught." he said groggily, looking around for the bubbly bookworm.

He walked to the closet adjacent to the door, labeled Room Number 3, and opened it, peering into the darkness and yawning crudely once more as he took a step inside.

Riza watched him sadly. The man she used to know and, shamefully admit, love, was eroding away and she had stood by and allowed it to happen. "There's no way you'll be able to be of any help to Edward if you aren't in top shape." she spoke up, alleviating her usual stern tone "You aren't alone, sir. You can let down your guard once in a while. We're here to help you."

He paused, turning his head to look over his shoulder at her. His eyes softened and his lips tugged into a smile, seeing her brows scrunched with unsaid worry.

"I know. Thank you."

He walked to the center of the small room, grunting as he lay down, surrounded by books and documents. She watched him as he shifted and turned, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard wooden floor, before settling his head on a stray book and closing his eyes.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes to wake you up, sir."

He made a complying sound, lifting his hand to wave his okays. She saluted before turning to leave, a sad smile on her face as she shut the door behind her. He sighed into the darkness, shifting again as sleep began overtaking him.

_Go away! After you, Roy! _

Edward's voice had been tight and filled with so much fear. Roy furrowed his brow and mentally punched himself upon thinking what he had allowed the young boy to have gone through these past three weeks.

Edward was kidnapped, Alphonse had gone who-knows-where, and someone wanted to get Roy.

What the hell was going on here?

* * *

><p><em>"Fire!"<em>

_Gun shots and screams filled the iron-musked air, sending shivers down Roy's spine. He frowned, walking through the dust covered streets._

_What were they doing? They were soldiers, Amestrian soldiers! They weren't supposed to do this. They were supposed to be there for the people, right? To serve them and protect them, right? So what was this? They weren't supposed to murder them. They weren't supposed to march to their homes and kill them for some God-known reason. What the hell were they doing?_

_"Men, go scout out the wreckages! Be sure you leave no survivors!" Brigadier General Basque Grand ordered from far off._

_Roy strode, turning his head to scan every fallen building, searching for any signs of life he was sent to exterminate. All around him explosions, gunfire, and frightening cries resounded, it was a miracle he was able to keep somewhat of his sanity. He came across a structure, still standing, and heard the sounds of whimpering and soft crying from inside._

_"I'm scared, Mommy," a small Ishvalan child cried._

_"Shush, baby, stay quiet or they'll find us."_

_Inside, he could barely see the heads of families of survivors, huddled close together in a futile attempt to stay alive amidst the chaos. Roy closed his eyes and swiveled on his heels, having every right mind to turn and leave them, spare they're lives in this war-torn land. But he stopped,_

_"Be sure there are no survivors!" The order screamed through his mind.  
><em>

_He lowered his head, eyes shut with internal pain, as he clenched his gloved fists and turned back to the broken building. He shakily lifted his hand, listening to the oblivious families incoherent last words._

_"I'm sorry." he whispered, snapping his fingers._

_Blazes of spark and red flames shot forth, exploding the building in flames. The structure collapsed, screams escalating before finally coming to silence. Roy watched as his flames died down and smoke rose to veil the land with dancing shadows, before eyeing movement at the foot of the building._

_A man, dark hair and pale skin blotched with blood, struggled to drag himself and a little girl out of the rubble, the cold body of a woman lying not too far. He collapsed, turning to the girl's lifeless body as blood flooded from his elbow; the rest of his arm gruesomely blown off. Tears streamed down the man's face as he yelled "Lorie! Lorie wake up!"_

_Roy stood, there, eyes wide and hands trembling as he watched the scene. Yes, he thought. This wasn't right at all._

_He swallowed hard, turning to leave, as his job was done, before barely catching the man's watchful gaze, eyes filled with sorrow and something else Roy was all too use to seeing._

* * *

><p>Roy's eyes shot open, sweat dripping from his forehead down to the bridge of his nose. He slowly hoisted himself up on his elbows, breathing heavily as he swiped a hand down his face.<p>

What was with that? He had frequent nightmares of his turmoil in Ishval, but this was different. He had never had that one before. He trembled, remembering the man with the lost arm, and the lifeless young girl, precious life oozing from a fatal wound in the head.

Roy jumped, startled by the door suddenly swinging open. "Sir, is everything okay?" Riza asked, head cocking slightly in wonder as she caught his frightened expression and haggard breathing.

His wide eyes dissipated and he chuckled at himself, standing up on wobbly legs. "No, no I'm alright. Just a bad dream."

"Oh…do you need to-"

"Come, Lieutenant." Roy interrupted, signaling his hand over his shoulder. He was grateful she had the heart to care, but he didn't need to talk about it right at the moment.

She sighed, closing her eyes and following. "Yes, sir."

Out of everything Roy looked forward to doing upon joining the military, the Ishvalan Massacre was the one thing he never expected. But he had no choice. It was his job. Once he received his silver pocket watch, he had made a vow to do whatever the military ordered him to, no matter how ridiculous and wrong they seemed. _Edward would've said no_, he thought, chuckling at the thought of the boy's rebellious refusal to partake in anything of that carnage. He would probably go so far as to stop it all together. _Wish I was that strong..._

"Lieutenant, I'm leaving early tonight." Roy announced as they strode back to his office.

"Going to look for Edward again?"

He nodded, "I'm going to search near the wreckage in Ishval."

She faltered in her steps, looking up to him with surprised eyes. "Do you need me to accompany you, sir?"

Roy shook his head, a small thankful smile playing on his lips. "I'll be fine, Lieutenant. You just take care of things here."

"Yes, sir."

That man. The look in his eyes was something that Roy was all too accustomed of seeing. He had seen it countless times in Ishval, and also in his own eyes, as well.

Revenge.

It was such an ugly trait, taking over your mind before nothing was left of you but despair and the manic desire for malevolence. But no matter how ugly, no one hurt Roy's men.

And he would go so far as to inhabit such an ugly thing if it meant getting Edward back.

* * *

><p><strong>Ba Derp a Derp! Don't like...<strong>

**And if you guys didn't notice, that man in Ishval happened to be Jerone o.O I plan on writing a scene from Ishval from Jerone's point of view in another chapter later on. Fanks!**


	9. Buried, but never gone

**I apologize GREATLY for my delay in updating. I've just been so busy, and when I wasn't busy, I was stuck trying to think of what to do with this chapter. It really bugged me, cuz I didn't know if I wanted to add Ed, Al, or even Winry in this chapter (Yes I was planning on adding Winry at one point here.) So please forgive me, and I hope that this section peaks your interest :)**

* * *

><p>Roy didn't know what compelled him to go back. To once again see that place he tore apart so many years ago.<p>

He had tried to forget that place long ago, bury it in the recesses of his mind, hoping to never be tormented again. Then again, it was all futile. He knew he would never forget, never stop regretting, never be forgiven. All he could do was live, and soon it would be completely unseen, covered by the deepest, most vulnerable part of his mind.

Buried, but never gone.

Before he knew it, it would be like it almost like it wasn't there. And for the most part, that's how it was.

He definitely thought and dreamed about it frequently enough, the heart-ache and bitterness still resounding as strongly as ever, but he could get by most of the day without breaking down and crying over everything he had done. Compared to how he first was, it was a big step. He felt no need to be taunted or drawn to that horrible time anymore. Most of the ties were being unknot.

But then, this was different. Something drew him here at this exact moment, and even now, as much as he tried, he still couldn't ignore the strong pull he felt towards this place right now.

Perhaps it was intuition.

Perhaps it was instinct.

Or maybe it was desperation.

A lucky guess?

Nevertheless, he was here, and he trembled as he strode farther away from Resembool's outskirts into the taunting desert of Ishval. He shivered, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his body. Whether it was from the cold, or the haunting memories, he didn't really know. He didn't have the right mind to tell right now.

He lifted his gloved hands to shield his eyes from the blowing dust, squinting to try and see past the flurry of sand and wind and darkness. There were buildings up ahead. Broken buildings, torn and ravaged, but still standing all these many years. He swallowed, quickening his pace. The faster he was, the faster he could get out of here.

Roy's face lowered, and a sad, almost nostalgic, kind of pain filled his heart as he reached the wreckage. It had a whole new kind of persistence in the dark. Places he saw, places he remembered, places he killed. Still the same as he had last left it.

Never changing, never growing.

He walked through buildings, tents, homes, shivering more vigorously, quietly shining his flashlight and searching for a sign of any life being there. But after everything, none. As he got to the other side of the city, he began to wonder; What was he even doing here? What made him think that this bastard Jerone would even hide in a place like this? It was so unstable, so barren, that to stay here for too long would be putting his own life in danger, much less Ed's.

Still, that small hope inside him never wavered as he stepped in front of a larger, old, structure, and upon seeing it closer, he remembered to be a hospital. It was the place where he remembered all the injured Ishvalans took refuge, before it was blown up. Exploding, breaking, screams filling the air, dying in flames. By who, none other than himself?

A strong wind howled though his ears, and Roy lowered his head and pulled his starch blue jacket as close as it would go. Damn, it was so cold. Wasn't this the south? No matter where you went, if it was the south, you knew it was always hot.

Except here. In Ishval, it was scorching during the day, freezing at night. One of the many reasons why Roy hated this place. That bipolar difference and the drastic change of temperature always made him think of the one thing he tried to desperately bury away.

Blood.

Blood, blood, blood.

Everywhere.

Roy flinched, stepping back from the red smeared concrete in front of him. What the hell happened here?

He lifted his flashlight, shining the light deeper into the building, examining the sight and recognizing the strong tinge of copper. This wasn't from the Civil War. It would have long been gone. This was newer, more fresh.

He slowly stepped in, careful to step over fallen rocks and rubble. His eyes were wide with alert, his legs felt wobbly, and his heartbeat quickened desperately. _Oh god, he's here. He's in here, isn't he?_

Bit by bit, he followed the trail that led deeper in, taking his eyes off the tainted ground every so often to shine the flashlight to his right, left, above, behind. Roy came across a room where the blood trail led, and his terror and heart pace only increased. From the outside, he could see the massive amounts puddled inside, and he had every right mind to leave then and there. There was so much blood, so much _red_. But he swallowed his fear and shown the flashlight to the inside of the blood stained floor, fearfully climbing its glow further and further into the room, before stopping on a body, lying, unmoving, on the floor. At the touch of the light, maggots and insects scattered and fled quickly into dark cuts and openings. The vile stench of death and decay filled his nostrils, and he winced at the burning sensation it left.

That person could be Ed.

That could person could be dead.

That person could be a dead Ed.

Roy shook his head furiously. He didn't want to think about it.

He stepped closer, too scared of the truth to shine the light in the victims face just yet, before kneeling in front of it. The scent of rotting and deterioration was so strong, so disturbing, now, that Roy feared he would vomit what little food he had left. _Please God, please. Don't let it be him._ He stretched his quivering hand out, before withdrawing it, quickly turned the flashlight to the face. He jumped, audibly gasping as he saw a pair of two eyes, wide open, dead,

and blue.

He sighed, scratching his head and stepping back from the nameless body, as his insides settled just slightly, his previous meal nestling in his stomach once more. Not Ed.

He grimaced as he looked at the body again. Blood ceased to flow anymore, although there was so much around it, and the body was green and yellow with decomposition. The stomach of the victim had been savagely sliced open, intestines, stomach, and innards gruesomely displayed on the floor. The rest of the body had been in the process of being eaten away. Small insects now began making there way out into the light again, when they noticed Roy posed no threat to take away their found meal. Roy suddenly felt a wave of nausea sweep over him again, and he held his stomach and shut his hand over his mouth. This person had been long dead.

Roy stiffly stood, wanting to get away from the mangled, unsightly corpse as quickly as possible. He turned, leaving to scour more.

And he couldn't remember seeing anything except a smile, vicious and maniacal, and a metal bar coming down dangerously close to his head.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for boring you guys! I know it's a REALLY short chapter...but I'm having a hard time piecing everything together! I have a beginning and an end, but a tough time with the middle...well anyway, Hope you enjoyed!<strong>


	10. Bad bad Evil bad

**Please bear with me here. We're nearing the end, so it'll be a little rough around the edges from here on. :)**

**Wow I came up with this one really fast o.O  
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><p><em>"Colonel...Oh god, Colonel…w-we're gonna' die, aren't we?" Ed whimpered frantically, eyes darting up, down, left, right.<em>

_"No we won't. We'll be fine." Roy grunted, pulling the boy to his feet._

_Roy turned, walking forward to lead Ed out, before he heard screaming. "No! No get off me!"_

_He turned swiftly around, facing absolute darkness, as endless amounts of blood pooled at his feet. _Ed was hurt_._

_"Fullmetal? Ed, where are you?" He searched around the sea of darkness, before he finally found the young boy, far away, almost not even there. His left leg was gone, cut crudely from his body, and blood oozed profusely from the wound._

_"Stop!" Ed yelled, as his arm was beginning to tear savagely away as well._

_"Ed! Run away! Get out of there!" Roy pleaded, but no sound._

_He wasn't making a single sound._

_Not looming on the thought, he outstretched his hand, running toward the boy. Ed was crying now, _Ed was crying_, as more of his body was ripped apart. So much blood, so much red, so little time._

_What the hell? Why wasn't he moving? Roy pushed harder, his legs and lungs stinging in protest as he tried his damnest to move, _just move_, but to no avail. He was running, running aimlessly and endlessly as he watched Ed scream, yell, cry, for help._

_"Damn it…" Roy thought, grunting and gasping for air, but not stopping._

_Ed's other leg, his fingers, his shoulders, _push harder, Roy_, his head. _Ed was dying_. All torn and laying in a bloody gruesome heap on the ground, before there was nothing left but his heart. His small, tired, bruised, damaged, heart, slowly beating to a dead stop._

_Roy ceased running, and his breath caught in his throat. He fell to his knees, splashing into the sea of blood. He shook, and he didn't even attempt to stop the flood of tears that made their way down his cheeks. _Ed was dead_. All that blood on his hands, because of him. Suddenly, something compelled him to look up._

_So he did, slowly jerking his head toward the withered heart lying in blood._

_A man loomed over the dead organ, smiling, cackling, hysterical. Roy slowly stood, watching as the features of the man became clear._

_Red eyes. Bright red eyes, wide with mirth. Ishvalan?_

_But pale skin, white and milky, and black hair, tangled and untamed. Amestrian?_

_"Who…who are you?" Roy called out finally, standing up on shaky limbs._

This man was bad_._

_Roy winced, feeling the worst, unexplainable pain in his chest. He dropped to the ground again, clutching his tight chest as he gasped, breathed, wheezed, he wasn't breathing._

Bad, bad, bad_._

_The pain spread to his stomach, his limbs, his brain. He felt like exploding, he wanted to breath, he wanted to die._

Evil_._

* * *

><p>Roy woke up with a start, his heart beating wildly and his face was sheening with sweat. He gasped, his chest still feeling tight and constricted. A dream?<p>

No, a nightmare.

He groaned at the thumping in his head as he rolled over grudgingly, making to get up, before he came face to face with bloody flesh. He jumped, crying out and scooting as far away from the body as possible. His nose stung with the strong scent of iron and copper. So strong that his eyes began to water. Roy panted, turning his head away and catching his breath, forcing to slow his heartbeat. _Okay. Calm down. Deep breaths. She's dead, Roy. She's dead.  
><em>

His eyes found the dead corpse again, and he winced, feeling sick to his stomach and pressuring his headache even more. The plaintive fact that she was dead did not make him feel any more calm. Looking at her again, he noticed that he hadn't been here last night. This corpse was different. It was a woman, right eye gorged out, lying gingerly behind her, and her head hanging half-way off her neck. He swallowed hard, forcing his eyes away, and looked around once more to get his mind off of things, purposely gliding his vision past the corpse in front of him. It was all he could do to distract himself from the dead, rotting, body, one eye still lgazing at him.

He was on concrete floor, a single square room. A lone table in the corner and a small window at the top, too high to reach, too small. Roy got up, swaying slightly, and walked towards the door at the end of the room. He grabbed the handle and twisted it. It clicked to a stop, not twisting all the way. He tried again, pulling and pushing the door for emphasis.

Nope, it was locked. Roy sighed. He didn't even have his gloves on him. Sometime during the night they had been taken from him. Not that they would help or anything. He roared audibly in frustration, kicking the door. The action made him dizzy, and he moaned, bringing his hand to his splitting head. He brought it back in front of his face, feeling warm moisture at the touch.

Was he sweating? Well, it was pretty hot, now that he thought about it. Where was he anyway? He was in Ishval and freezing his mighty ass off, last he remembered. His dazed vision blurred his fingers with red.

Blood. So he was bleeding.

Damn it, his head was absolutely _killing_ him and he was getting really pissed off.

And scared. He hated admitting it, but he was actually scared. There was a dead body not ten feet away, and he was somewhere he didn't know. That man who attacked him could be anywhere.

And that dream still spooked the daylights out of him. He was dying. Edward was dying. Edward was-

Edward!

Where was Edward? Ed was here, wasn't he? Roy looked around desperately, trying to find any way out. He had to get to Edward. He had finally made it. He was so close!

Roy's eyes continued their action of darting back and forth like a madman, before they slowed to a stop on the window. Now that he thought about it, Roy was a lot _thinner_ than he had been before. He could probably squeeze through that window if he really tried...

Roy put himself to work, dragging the table from the opposite side of the room. He scoffed and groaned when the leg of it got caught in a crack in the floor. "Damn, get out..." he tugged on the table, coaxing the leg to come free, before it finally was loose. He slowly continued his task of dragging it back, and he lost his footing and slipped on smeared blood from the rotting corpse, falling hard on his haunches with a loud thud. He rubbed his bottom, cursing under his breath, and placed his hand to the ground for leverage, pulling back and jumping when he felt hair underneath. He scooted far from the body, pausing to ease his breath and fight the wave of nausea that took over him, before getting up once more.

He hoisted himself up when the table was finally under the window sill, a small "hup" escaping his lips, and he reached his hand above his head. Luckily, he was just tall enough to barely unlatch the lock and open the window. He grabbed the edge of the window and lifted his foot, planting it against the wall for footing, before mustering all the strength in his body to lift himself up.

Unfortunately, he had neglected health for the past two weeks, and his arms strained and burned just by the act of lifting his own weight. He lowered himself to the table again before, God forbid, he accidentally dropped himself and risked putting himself in any more pain than he was already in, plopping down to sit on it defeatedly. He remembered when Riza had offered to buy him dinner before his departure, but gingerly declined it. He sat back, resting his head on the cold cemented wall behind him, groaning for the upteenth time that day.

"Damn, why didn't I take up Hawkeye on that offer..."

* * *

><p>Riza sighed loudly and tiredly as she filed the Colonel's paperwork, stopping abruptly when she felt all eyes in the room on her.<p>

"Are you alright, Lieutenant?" Fuery asked, eyebrows bunched together with worry.

"Yeah. I'm not too sure I've ever heard you sigh like that." Jean said.

Riza stilled her hands, looking down at them pitifully. "I'm alright. It's just…I guess I'm worrying a little too much about him."

"I'm guessing you're talkin' about the colonel, right?" Breda inquired. Riza looked down, the smallest hint of embarrassment lining her cheeks.

"Him? Don't you worry about him. He may seem like a bastard who has a high time laying his ass down, but he's a tough man. He wouldn't let just any guy piss on his head and get away with it." Jean said, chuckling as he did so.

"And besides. Even if he wasn't strong enough, it's _Ed_ he's fighting for. I think that alone would be enough to get him through absolutely _anything_." Fuery grinned.

"I can't help but think you're making the guy out to be gay, Fuery."

Fuery perked up, face red and voice sputtering at Jean's quick poke. "What? N-no! Of course not! I mean, that's just wrong! Wait no...but if that's how he _really feels_ towards Ed, then it certainly can't..."

Riza smiled sadly as the other men chortled and cackled. She looked down at Roy's papers, mumbling quietly to herself. "I know…but...this is Ishval. Out of all of us, the Colonel had it worst...And I'm not too sure how much he'll be able to take before it all comes flooding back to him."

* * *

><p>He perked up, hearing the jostling and click of the door lock.<p>

"Colonel Roy Mustang! You're here at last!" A man stepped in just then, and Roy took in his black tangled hair, pale starch skin, and lost appendage.

_I know him from somewhere…_

"I take it you're this Jerone Ed was warning me about?"

Jerone chuckled, his eyes wide and big with psychotic giddiness. "I'm flattered you know who I am. Yes, I am Jerone." he preened, taking swaying strides towards Roy. He stepped on the woman's discarded eye thoughtlessly, the squish sound it made causing Roy to wince. Jerone stepped forward, leaving behind a thin white film, and whitish-yellow liquid oozing from the mangled eye ball.

"Tell me. Where is Edward." he asked

"Really, Roy. How did you find me? So quickly even!"

"The Fullmetal Alchemist. Where is he?" Roy asked again, his voice taking on a deep, warning, venom.

"I was sure I was hiding in a good place." Jerone happily affirmed, ignoring Roy's plaintive questions.

"Where is Ed."

"You must be good at playing hide-and-seek."

Roy rose, pushing himself off the table, and grabbed Jerone by the collar of his shirt, pulling the man up. "Shut up, you sick bastard, unless you want me to get really pissed off. I'm not here to play around. You dragged me here, now tell me. _Where is Edward Elric_?"

Jerone stayed silent for a moment, before his eyelids lowered, an annoyed and stoic expression replacing his deranged sick one. "I hate rotten fuckers like you. Always only caring about yourself, and not about what anyone else wants. I wanted to play a game, Roy. You don't need to know where he is for that."

Roy lowered him to the ground; his arm was beginning to tremble with the troubled weight of holding the man up. His face heated with anger, and he repeatedly tightened and untightened his fist agitatedly. "Really, now? By the way you desperately called me and coaxed me into coming, I would've guessed that you were either a love-sick fool, or that you _wanted_ me to find Ed. Yet here you say I don't need to know where he is?" Jerone crooned, obviously excited at Roy's dangerous anger.

"I'm sick of entertaining to your pitiful and godawful pleasure. You make me run around chasing ass for weeks, and you expect me to leave here without knocking a bit of sense into your fucked up head? Don't make me laugh."

Jerone stepped back, placing his hand in his pocket and lowering his head to let out a deep, bellowed laugh. "Really, Mustang. You're something, you know that?"

Roy's eyes shot open, and he took a faltering step back, but he was too late. He doubled over, holding his side as blood slowly oozed from his fingers. The knife narrowly got him, and Jerone cackled, holding the dripping blade tightly in his hand as he pulled it away from Roy's body. "You bastard..." Roy spat. He gingerly stood, lunging forward to have a go at Jerone's face, missing when the man stepped to the side.

He gasped, choking on warm, foamy spit, as a swift kick to his stomach left him gagging. "Come now. Is that that any way you're going to treat the man who you're indebted too? How avaricious of you." Jerone giggled, continuously pulling his leg back, only to rapidly swing it back into Roy's stomach and leg.

Roy coughed and wheezed, "Ind-debted? To you? What the..._hell_ are you talking about?"

Jerone stopped, watching as Roy collapsed to his knees and held his abdomen and right leg sorely, coughing blood that splattered freely on the cold concrete floor.

"Tell me. Do you remember this building? How it came burning down? You owe me one, Mustang, and I won't let you get away without repaying me."

* * *

><p><strong>So basically here's what the dream was about. Ed screaming and crying is how he pictures Ed right now. Terrified and helpless against what's happening to him. Roy's inability to catch him and save him shows how helpless Roy feels because he let Ed's torment occur for so long, and his regret to speak out and say something during the Ishvalan Massacre (what had caused all this in the first place) The little pieces Ed is being cut into represents all the people who had suffered and died because of Roy's helplessness and weakness. The shadow is obviously Jerone. But Roy doesn't know what Jerone looks like. So here is what he had imagined. The Ishvalan eyes signifies that he was involved in the Ishvalan Massacre (how him and Roy met the first time) and the Amestrian traits signify that Jerone was different from the Ishvalans. He wasn't supposed to be there at the time, but was. The horrible bitterness and hurt Roy feels at the end shows how terrible and regretful he feels about both the war and Ed's situation now. (JERONE ISN'T REALLY ISHVALAN. IT'S JUST SYMBOLISM!)I don't know if this dream has ANY relevance what-so-ever, but I felt I needed to add somewhere. I've had occuring dreams that daunted me like this, so because I kind of know how Roy is feeling, I thought it'd be an interesting concept...<strong>

**Don't worry. I'm NOT making this a Yaoi of anything! It was just a little fun poke I thought Jean would say... :D  
><strong>

**I'm really sorry if this wasn't living up to anyone's expectations. I'm trying to get this finished before school starts, because once it does, this is never gonna get finished. Thanks so much for your support!  
><strong>


	11. The problem of the almighty flame

**Here's one more chapter, before I set off to do the homework I should have started 2 months ago :/**

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><p>His metal joints clanged with every movement, as he stood up from his seat on the side of the road, slowly and grudgingly walking down the busy streets of a town he could care less for to know the name of.<p>

He was used to this. It was something he had been dealing with for over four years now, towering over all the nameless heads around, arbitrating eyes watching him from all angles. It was an almost comfortable and sick kind of sad attention, those eyes watching him; paining him with the remembrance of that faithful day, but granting him with the warm reassurance that he was real. He was Alphonse Elric. Those eyes were reflecting his image, and he was alive. What he wasn't comfortable with, and probably would _never_ be comfortable with, was the disheartening absence next to him.

Edward had always been there. Always been there to talk to him, keep him company, ward off critical glares with a choleric glare of his own, argue with him over stupid matters, was there to just make Alphonse _happy_. But that presence was gone, and the empty feeling Al got when he looked down to the empty space where his brother once stood was nearly heart-breaking. The dark void in him hurt almost like a cancer, spreading and eating away at him little by little. As much as he wanted his human body back, Al knew he didn't need it. He could go the rest of his life in an empty shell without ever feeling, but he would be fine with that, as long as he had his brother by his side. All he ever needed was Ed, and he didn't want to have the pleasures of touch and pain if Ed wasn't there to share it with him.

Now, Alphonse wasn't a very discouraging young boy. He was almost always preening with absolute optimism, and he had always been that shining light, that counter-balance, to Edward's somewhat bleak heart. Whenever Ed would be down, Al would be there to undeniably bring him back up. But after countless weeks of constant searching with no results, it seemed that Al would now follow in his brother's steps in believing that God was out there to screw him over. Make sure his life was a living hell and kick him down with his almighty foot.

He approached the ticket stand, and bent his head down to the teller. "One ticket to Central…" he sighed, his once high and uplifting voice now dull and dejected.

The teller paid no mind, pulling out a ticket and calling monotonously "That'll be 7,000 cenz."

Alphonse pulled the desired amount from the suitcase he held; the suitcase his brother had always used,_ it hurt to hold that burden in his hands_, and handed the money to the young woman, taking the ticket from her fingers. He turned to leave, paying no mind to the voices that whispered behind his back. He better learn to ignore it now. He'd have to deal with it by himself from now on.

"All aboard, those wishing to depart to Central!" a steward called from a passenger freight train.

Al paced himself to the train, stepping in and stiffly sitting down in the first vacant seat available. The train car had filled up quite quickly as he waited for the train's departure. There were very few empty seats, and people struggled to find one they could rest their tired feet on. Many families had approached the bench in front of Al, sighing in relief, but they always pulled back with a gasp and apology when they noticed Al's robust and intimidating build "S-sorry…" before turning to leave hurriedly. Before long, every seat aside from his was filled, and Al sat alone, left to deal with the sadness and heart-ache of his situation on his own.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his helmet head in his hands. _The Colonel's going to be so disappointed_, he thought bleakly. _Even though he kept it a secret, that was just his way of helping. He didn't want me to worry. And how do I repay him? Letting him down, coming back empty handed_. He stiffened._ And Winry! Oh my god, what am I gonna' tell Winry?_ He panicked, imagining the lemon blond's crying and hysteric face. Al hated that. He hated to see her cry. Her crying had a way of breaking down anyone's walls, puddling them in grief and regret. But most of all, _Ed_ hated to see her cry. He always thought it was his fault. That puddle of grief and regret was always so much more extreme for his already weak and rebuking heart. And surely, if he were there when Al broke the news of his disappearance to her, he would lay the blame on himself again.

Al raised his head, gazing sadly at the unoccupied seat in front of him.

"_Brother, stop cheating!_"

"_What? Shut up, Al. I did not_."

"_You did too! I can totally see the three aces in your sleeve, you liar!_"

Al remembered their usual conversations that most likely ended in brotherly bickering. He choked on a sob, and his armor rattled, shaking as he struggled to compose himself, his hope that he desperately held onto slowly diminishing. Many eyes stared, and many lips whispered, but Al was too grief stricken to care about that anymore.

* * *

><p>Roy struggled to catch his breath, as he trembled and quaked. His leg was burning, his head throbbed with a deafening intensity, and his stomach lurched and stung.<p>

"_Damn it,_" he thought as he coughed out more blood to the cold ground, so contrasting to the humid moist air around them. He wiped his mouth, smearing a red streak across his sleeve, and swung forward, swiftly punching Jerone in the face, swaying and stumbling as he struggled to keep his footing. Jerone teetered back and forth giddily, before lunging ahead, swinging his knife like a madman. Roy backed up as fast as he could, trying his hardest to dodge every squander, but he was so weak and tired; his battered leg threatened to give way, and he grunted when his arm was sliced, blood spewing and splatting on Jerone's face. The man chortled, lapping at it with his tongue greedily as he swung the knife some more. Crazy bastard...

This was the problem with specializing in the almighty flame alchemy. When you used it, you stood in place, watching wildly as flames shot forth in displays of divine power, and destroyed everything in your path. Take it away; well, there was always the possibility that you could still use martial arts. But if you're like Roy, who relied completely on his god-like fire, then you neglected learning the art of fist fighting.

And in a situation like this, you're completely and _royally_ fucked.

Jerone exploded in hysterics as he chased Roy around the room, flinging the blade all around. "_Hell, I can't keep this up_." Roy thought, wincing when a sharp irk shot up his leg.

He gasped when he stepped back and started falling, having tripped over the dead woman's corpse. He was lucky; as he fell, Jerone swung the knife just above his head. Roy fell to the ground with a thud, his legs sending an unsuspecting Jerone tumbling down as well. Had Roy been upright, his head would have been sliced off. He rolled away from the corpse, crying out when the madman cut his already twisted leg, the throbbing intensifying, as he panted and gasped for desperate air.

Jerone chuckled, lifting himself to his knees "Do you remember, Roy? You were standing out there," Jerone said, pointing out the window. "for quite some time, before you turned and started walking away."

"..what?" Roy questioned, not knowing what he was talking about.

"I thought for a moment that, maybe, in this damn world, there was someone brave and smart enough to run away. Strong enough to say no. To stand up and actually act on their beliefs. But, before I knew it, you had turned back around, and with a simple snap of your fingers, destroyed my life." Jerone's psychotic smile only grew, disagreeing to the venom and animosity flowing from his strained, raspy voice.

"The building came crumbling down, crushing everyone inside, don't you remember? When I had come to, everyone was already dead. Even my darling daughter and lovely wife, and as I struggled and begged for them to wake up, what did you do?"

Roy's eyes widened. Images of a man, tears and blood streaming down his face, crimson flowing from his detached left arm."_Lorie! Lorie wake up!_"

"You stood there, stood there _mocking_ me, stood there like you had just done the best damn deed in the whole fucking world. And when I turned to you, silently pleading for your help and mercy, you walked away. Left me in the cold dust to watch the color from my Lorie's face drain away, and left me to practically bleed to death. And then I knew. I knew that I was wrong. There's no one in this world that strong. Everyone's a weak, hypocrite."

Roy shuddered, remembering the tyranny he wreaked throughout the land. "Shut up..."

"_I'm scared, Mommy…_"

"_Shush, baby, stay quiet or they'll find us._"

He brought back his fist, slamming it into the dead center of Jerone's face, a loud crack resounding from his nose.

It was strange. Roy was a man who was almost always composed, hating to show any emotions that could render him lesser than the other man. He always thought that showing fear or pain or anger was a sign of weakness, and he preferred to keep them in check. But as he remembered the young boy's last words, he shook, trembled, and was almost border-line in mad hysterics.

"You're just like the rest of them...But you know what?" Jerone accused, rising up to tower over Roy, who still kneeled on the ground, blood running violently down his lips and nose.

"You're the weakest, most _fucked up_, bastard of them all." He cackled, lunging forward to deal the finishing blow.

Roy shook his head, crying out and swiftly extending his foot, pounding it into Jerone's stomach as hard as he could when the man lurched forward. Jerone dropped his knife, unsuspecting of the sudden blow to his abdomen, and dropped to his knees, gagging and vomiting from the sheer force. A maniacal glee filled his eyes, and he absolutely cracked up between heaves and retches.

Without thinking twice, Roy quickly scrambled to his feet, leaving the man on the ground, and limped out as fast as his weakened body could.

His foot steps faltered and buckled the farther he got, but he couldn't stop now. He had to get out of here. Get out of here and find Edward. There was nothing good about this place. It only brought back painful nightmares, and grieving memories.

Roy turned his head to look out a window he swiftly ran by, catching the deep splashes of orange, blue, and red painted in the sky. It had to be somewhere around 5:00 pm already, and the sun was beginning to set, casting the land in soft hues and shadows. The further in he got into the broken building, the stronger the stench of decay and rotting flesh was, burning the insides of his nose and throat to the point he almost wanted to double over and throw up.

"Shit," he gasped, his hand flying to his side when a sharp pain alerted him. "…bastard broke a couple of my ribs…"

"Oh, Roy! Where are you?"

Roy flipped his head around towards the voice, quickening his pace to nowhere. He ran left, right, up stairs, down stairs. He had no clue where the hell he was going.

He couldn't guess how long he was running, but minutes seemed like hours, before he slowed down. _Damn it, don't stop!_ His hand flew to his chest and collapsed against a wall, gasping and wheezing for air. His head and leg pounded less and less, before lowering to an uncomfortable dull numbness. He shivered as a breeze blew in through a broken window. It was already dusk, and the air was cooling down drastically. His sweat slid down his back and arms, sending a bitter snip wracking through his body.

Where the hell was he keeping Edward? Roy was becoming pissed off, knowing that there were a multitude of rooms that the boy could be held captive in. God, at the rate he was moving, this would take forever!

"Come out! This is the best fun I've ever had!" he heard the psychotic voice call through the air from far off.

He started moving again, but to his disagreement, much slower this time. Everything around him seemed to sway; walls were swirling, the stair case was moving, the ground was warping. Roy staggered forward, his right leg dragging in protest. His breathing was haggard and his eyes unfocused, as blood and sweat dripped into his line of vision. _Gotta move…gotta move…gotta-_

He took another step then lurched forward, his battered leg giving out on him. He looked up and found himself on the ground. He couldn't remember falling. He didn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything. He could only feel the intense pull in his mind, constantly urging him to '_hurry up, faster, hurry up_'.

Roy lay there, puffs of white fog exiting through his open lips, gasping, panting, for the chilling air around him. God, he was so tired. He wanted to stay there. To lay on the cold concrete and welcome sleep.

Sleep. That sounded nice.

He shook his head, before lifting himself on his hands and knees, then painfully back up to his feet. He couldn't stay here. He had to get Fullmetal. He had to get him now. It could already be too late.

Roy took another faltering step, and dragged on.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter seems a bit lacking to me...Oh well. o_O Poor Al...<br>**


	12. Hope: Keep on moving

**Some of you are probably thinking "Why the _hell_ doesn't Roy just blow the bastard's brains out with a gun?" I guess I forgot to mention it was also taken. Sorry guys for my stupidity in not adding that little fact! God, I'm an idiot! :)**_  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Come on...Push yourself harder...Keep on moving...You can't stop now!<em>

Even with his hand on the wall for support, he still swayed and faltered with each step. He distributed most of his weight on his left leg, his right no doubt broken from the abuse Jerone inflicted. Each step was piercing and sharp, but as he had encouraged himself earlier, he couldn't stop now. He looked around frantically, eyes blurring and hazing from ailment and the setting sun.

He lost sight of Jerone a while ago, and the man no longer made a sound, aside form the occasional cackle and psychotic outburst that waved through the air, twisting Roy's insides disturbingly. Maybe he could pace himself now.

Roy stopped for a moment, bending forward to rest his hands on his knees and fight to send rushes of air down to his lungs, his back heaving up and down. He collapsed his back to the wall, sliding down to sit and look at himself. It was only then that Roy finally got a good idea of how bad he was off.

His left side had been sliced open from Jerone's initial attack, and had colored his blue cerulean coat with a dark wine, blood beginning to crust over the wound to clot the bleeding. Droplets of sweat and blood ran down his face and mouth, and his sleeve had a large splotch of red soaking it; the gash in his arm still bled, but had slowed to an easy oozing, rather than the strong current flowing from the wound before.

And his leg.

Now, he didn't even want to look or think about that. From the knee down, it was bending askew from, his foot twisting slightly inward. His pant leg had been torn down, and the flesh had been savagely broken and split from Jerone's knife. The skin around had bloomed dark purple and crimson, strings of torn capillaries and skin hanging off, and blood oozed amply from it. Good Lord, it hurt like a bitch.

Roy grabbed his sleeve, bundling his fingers tightly in the cloth, before tearing it with some difficulty. Carefully, he wrapped the torn cloth around his knee in an attempt to make-shift a tourniquet and slow the bleeding, bending down and lifting his leg to pull the two ends of the cloth taut with his uninjured arm and teeth. He suddenly felt queasy and nauseous and he bit his lip and leaned back, hoping to settle his churning insides. When he got out of this..._if_ he got out of this, he was gonna be up for a major medical bill.

Anyone who was anyone knew that Roy Mustang was a man of science and adventure. It was plain to see that he detested his office work, with the way he did little to absolutely _none_ of it. He just couldn't take the dullness of it all; with the way you sat all day, staring at _stupid_ black words on _stupid_ white paper, signing your _stupid_ name off carelessly with that _stupid_ pen you were so used to feeling in between your fingers, then going on to the next _stupid_ one. He couldn't understand why the higher up you moved in the rank, the less you were pulled into action. The Fuhrer is the most powerful man in the country. Shouldn't he get all the action and get a chance to act like a bad-ass once in a while? But a life spent at an office desk lined with paper was just a small sacrifice he have to make if he wanted to make things right again.

Still, it didn't mean that once he became Fuhrer, he'd sit around lazing off as he spouted orders. That's just not the type of man he was. He yearned for knowledge, he wanted power to make things right again. He desired a life of risk, and craved the tinge of danger and possibility. He loved the way his heart beat and his skin crawled with the exhilaration of living on edge.

But this...this was a whole different situation. A whole new kind of exhilaration.

Roy felt, and knew, that he was genuinely and positively scared. Not just scared, _terrified_. His heart pounded as if it would thump right out of his chest at any moment, and his hands had already begun to sweat with how much they were trembling. His skin was teeming with uneasiness and goosebumps. He couldn't possibly understand why he was so completely scared, though, because he had been in much more dangerous and heart-stopping situations than this.

Take Scar, for instance. Or the Ishvalan Massacre…

Roy shuddered. The Massacre. Thinking again, that was probably why Roy was so terrified.

The land surrounding him was absolutely shaking with the war, and filling with all the _screams, cries, wails, blood, sobs, bodies, blood, dead bodies, blood, fire, blood, so much blood. Oh my god it was all his fault he killed them all and they just kept running, and dying, and choking the land with screams, cries, blood_-

Roy clasped his head in his hands, eyes wide and fingers quivering. Stop. Stop this now. This was no time to give into his grief and pathetic self-hatred and guilt.

Roy inhaled and exhaled slowly, before rising to his stumbling legs and forcing himself to move forward.

God, what was Edward doing right now? Sheer common-sense had made him to believe so, but was Ed even here? Wouldn't the kid have been making a ruckus if he was? He had made that proven by how much he yelled over the phone call, no matter how heart clenchingly painful he had sounded. It was Fullmetal, for goodness' sakes. that kid could not keep his mouth shut for his life.

Roy stiffened, hearing the slamming open of doors and sharp, uneven, footsteps from above. "Rooyyy, where are yoouuu?"

Run now.

Roy let go of his support on the wall, and toddled as fast as he could to the awaiting stair case in front of him. Arriving there, he fumbled, not slowing down, as he quickly fled down the stair case, rolling down the last few steps. He hastily pushed himself back up, grunting a curse and ignoring the stinging and aching his body felt from the tumble down.

_ Come on…I can't keep running away like this. I need to think of what to do. I need somewhere to hide!_ Just then, a door caught his eyes, and without a second thought, he lifted it, crawled under, and quietly, but quickly, pulled it back down.

Right off, he was slammed with the stench of blood and infection. He turned around offensively, and from the dull light drifting through the small window from the top, he could faintly see blood splattered on the ground, and a body lying in the shadows in the back of the room, back facing towards him.

_Son of a bitch, how many people has this bastard slaughtered…_he thought, face scrunched with fetidity and pity for the lost souls.

It was Roy he wanted. Not these people. There was no reason to take their lives, when it was his that the man had yearned for. So many people already were needlessly killed because of him. The people of Ishval, the poor victims slaughtered in this abandoned hospital...

...and now Ed. Why should they have to had suffered because of Roy's unforgivable existence? Destroy and create. That was a basic rule of alchemy. But all he ever seemed to do was _destroy, destroy, destroy_.

God, why was he so helpless? Could he really only have been brought to this world to ruin lives? Was suffering and anguish all he was good for bringing? Was the flame alchemy he sacrificed his entire adolescence perfecting only good for destruction? Just a waste of time? All in vain? Only cause all that _screaming, crying, wailing, blood blood blood_?

But then again...

Equivalent Exchange. That was another, more basic, law of alchemy. Without Roy, Jerone would have no more need to hurt and murder. Maybe he should just go out there. Step out there and let the man find him. Maybe he should let Jerone take sick, sweet revenge on him; beat him bloody a few times before finally killing him in a manner more grotesque than even the corpses scattered in this building. Because again, it was him that Jerone wanted, not them. He'd give up his life in exchange for theirs. He would free this world of himself.

But was his pitiful, sad, fuck-up of a life really worth all the ones that had to succumb to death because of him? In retrospect, of course not. But if it would stop Jerone's onslaught of murder, he'd gladly give it up. Because when you've seen the things he's seen, heard the things he's heard, and done the things he's done, you'd know it wasn't even worth living anyway.

Roy bit his lip and shook his head. No way. He couldn't do that. Someone out there needed him, and he couldn't give up now. _Edward_ needed him, and he couldn't give up now. And he had promised countless people that he would make it. Make it to the top and become Fuhrer. Lead this nation out of dictatorship and into Democracy. Repair the damage done to this ravaged country. Repair, but never heal. He'd make it and fix things.

Of course, he could never be forgiven. What he did in this war-torn land was inexcusable, unjustifiable, sick and _wrong_. But if he had even the smallest opportunity to make amends, he'd take it in a heartbeat.

He leaned against the wall next to the door, and clutched his chest, rising up and down with each battered breath he took.

_Okay, Roy. You need to think fast. What are you gonna' do when he finds you. You don't have your gloves, and you suck at fighting. You need a plan. You need to-_

"W-what…what do you want…"

Immediately, Roy stiffened. It was so airy and barely even audible, masked by his own huffs of tired breath, that if Roy hadn't paid attention, he'd probably miss it. He turned his head disbelievingly to the back of the room, his previous situation quite clearly forgotten.

"You h-here to piss off some more?" the small shaky voice said again.

Roy pushed himself off the walls, slowly pacing towards the body with careful, yet horrified, steps. _No...this can't be true..._

He dropped to his knees, eyes wide and scared, at the back of the body, and, what Roy had once presumed was another dead corpse, saw it's shuddering and quaking form. Shakily, he stretched out his hand, the thought to pull back crossing his mind, but he proceeded and softly placed trembling fingers on the boy's shoulder.

Warm.

The boy jumped and shook harder now, fear and panic lining his dry and rough voice. "Go on! Do your worst, asshole…I can take...t-take it…."

_It isn't..._

"….Ed?"

The boy stiffened, venturing to slowly turn his head around. Golden eyes befell dark midnight ones, both pairs wide with fear and caution, but also, coursing with something else. A feeling that made both their tiring hearts skip a beat...

…hope

"C-colonel?"

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><p><strong>YaY, happy? Roy finds little Ed. i MEANT for this chapter to be short. okay then :)<strong>


	13. Heartfelt

**{[**Prepare for an oncoming of insane cheesiness and sappy love**]}**

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><p>Edward curled slightly inward on himself, as his body spasmed with another series of painful coughs and wheezes.<p>

How much longer would he have to endure this? Was God finally getting back at him? Punishing him for daring to practice the forbidden, for all the wrong and hurt he had caused throughout his useless life? If he was, Ed wished that it would just end. Twenty days of endless brutal torture was enough, right?

Of course not. Nothing could amount to the damage he'd caused. But even so, he didn't know how much more he could take of this. His wounds along his abdomen and arms festered sickeningly, many of which had become large, red, swollen lumps oozing green odorous discharge. He hadn't slept in almost four days; his lungs stung and burned almost constantly, and every time he felt his eyes shut and slumber begin to grab hold of him, he would fall into another choking fit, or his head would throb unbearably, or the destroyed muscles in his broken leg would fluctuate violently. Either way, God was making sure to make his long-awaited payback a living hell.

Edward straightened back as much as he could, eyes watering from the pain and chest quivering, as he breathed haggardly through his bloody chapped lips. Really, it was all too much.

_Just end it. Somebody, please, just kill me now. I want it all to stop._

As if his prayers had finally been answered for once, the door slid open loudly, sweet light flowing in momentarily in a thick band of golden orange, before dropping harshly back to the ground, loud pants and gasps the only sound left in the room.

Edward's stomach caught in his throat. Oh god, Jerone was back.

"W-what…what do you want…" he involuntarily breathed. _Shutup, Ed!_ He thought, wanting to smack himself in the face.

"You h-here to piss of some more?" he asked, voice shaking uncontrollably from fear. The pants cut short, as he heard uneven footsteps drag their way towards him. And Ed knew he would die today. Because he was sure his body couldn't stand another brutal beating from the deranged man.

This was Ed's problem. If he had just taken the abuse from Jerone without a fight, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. If he had just forcefully bit his tongue, maybe he'd be home with Alphonse, searching for the stone and restoring their bodies like they promised. But no. First all Ed cared about was his pride as a man. He wanted to show Jerone that nothing could hurt him; that he was the stronger man, no matter if he was small or bound up to a chair and defiled in more ways than one. But after time, he knew his pride was gone, and smart-assing his way through the violations were simply a way out. A futile way of comfort to forget the pain. To hopelessly tell himself that he could 'get through it' or that it 'didn't hurt'.

And so, in reflexive security he said, "Go on! Do your worst, asshole…I can take…t-take it…" as Jerone's hand grabbed his shoulder.

This was it.

"…Ed?"

Edward's heart almost stopped, eyes widening as if delusional.

_No!_

* * *

><p>"C-Colonel?"<p>

"Ed," Roy sighed, eyes wide with relief as a small, almost unbelieving, smile tugged on his lips. His fingers trembled and his heart beat with intense briskness. "It's…really you-"

Roy suddenly sputtered and spat, shaking his head with complete disgust. "Ew! Fullmetal, what the hell! Don't spit on- Oh my god it's on my mouth!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ed roared after projecting his saliva, craning his neck back to glare into the Colonel's eyes. "I told you not to come!"

Roy wiped his face, vigorously scrubbing the horribly sticky and miry goo off his nose and lips. That worried him a little. Saliva was only sticky if the owner was extremely dehydrated. But his annoyance pushed that thought to the back of his mind temporarily. He turned down to glower at the boy, his eyebrows lowered in astonishment and irritation. "Are you serious? I run around doing shit for three weeks, I risk my life freezing my ass off in a desert, face a madman out to slit my throat, and then you actually have the nerve to ask me 'what the hell I'm doing here?'"

"You could've gotten hurt, you bastard!" Ed forced, voice high and bitter, but also grounding with grief. Roy, apparently, didn't realize, or didn't care.

"Could have gotten hurt? And you think that you would have been any better off? Whose ass do you think I'm saving, you ungrateful son of a-"

Roy broke off, finally noticing the way the skin around one of Edward's eye lids was thick and swollen and his lip was split. He withdrew a bit, scanning the boy fully, gruesomely taking in the bruises, the burns, the missing steel arm, the protruding bones and scrawny build, the cuts, the blood the blood the blood.

"Oh my god…" he breathed, distasteful bile rising in the back of his throat as he realized what Edward had been put through all this time. What he had _allowed_ Edward to have been put through all this time.

Roy hastily reached down, clumsily untying Edward's bound arm _oh my god his fingers how did they get so mangled_ and sitting him up in an attempt to relieve some of the bodily stress. Edward gave a small sharp grunt, and Roy quickly looked to his clammy face to see what was wrong.

"L-leg…" Ed managed to choke out. The colonel eyes trailed down, and winced and shot his hand up quickly to his mouth upon seeing the boy's leg jetting upward at the knee and twisting slightly inward. He almost wanted to throw up.

"Goddamn, Ed." Roy pushed the chair away, sitting Ed against the wall, hands worriedly groping and exploring his face and torso for any more wounds or injuries.

"See what I mean? This guy isn't playing around. He will kill you, Colonel." Ed said, flicking his wrist up and down to acclimate to the movement again. "God, why couldn't you just stay at Central like I told you with your stupid almighty attitu-"

"You think I would stay and do nothing after I get a call like that?" Roy interrupted about the call he got weeks ago from Jerone. "You make me go through all this shit and you actually think I'm doing this for fun?"

Edward scoffed. For a reason or not, he was almost hysterical. "Well if it was so much trouble, why don't you just go back to Central and throw this into another of your problems that aren't worth your time? Because you sure have been doing a mighty fine job of that so far."

Roy raised his brows, not understanding. "What are you getting at, Fullmetal?"

"Just admit it, Colonel. It's not like you've ever cared about me to begin with. I was just you're ticket to promotions. You're way to boost up higher in the ranks. And if I were gone, you'd be out-shined by some other brainwashed bastard looking to suck up to the Fuhrer."

Ed shut his mouth, quickly turning to Roy, a look on his face as if he were a child just being caught red-handed stealing from a cookie jar. Roy's eyes were wide, his lips parted in disbelief. "Is that…what you really think?"

Ed turned away, disgust for himself growing in the pit of his stomach.

Of course Ed didn't mean it. He didn't even know why he said it. The colonel had helped him and Al out more often than he wanted to steadily admit. In fact, the colonel was the only one in that hell-bound military that had would readily stand by them no matter what. The only one that actually gave a fuck about what was going on in their lives. Ed was just spouting out nonsense again, because he really didn't _want_ Roy to care about him. There was no reason for Roy to have any concern for them, but for some reason he did and that scared Ed. Because being associated with Edward Elric never ended up well. Edward Elric only brought pain to others. Only messed things up. Yet despite it all, Roy Mustang still chose to care for him. Still chose to bother. Still chose to come out here and risk his life for this _punk_. And that scared Ed.

"You're right, Ed." Roy complied harshly, causing Ed's neck to jerk up in shock. "I didn't care about you. I had wanted to make it to the top. I wanted it so bad. And when I found you, I knew you were just what I needed to please my superiors. I used you. Used you for my own selfish reasons."

Ed could hardly believe what he was hearing. He turned away again, biting his lip and fighting back the unneeded tears. Why was he so close to crying? He knew it was true anyway. How many times had he told himself that? But to hear it coming from the very man's mouth, it was almost heart breaking.

"I used you, Ed. But things changed. I hated your arrogant mouth. Hated the way you walked and spoke as if everyone had to listen to you. You made my life in the office a living hell. You made me chase after you, clean up after you...You were such a brat, only caring about what you wanted." His voice softened "But then I began to know you guys. I found the way you two were steadfast, full of heart, never actually caring about yourselves, determined. God forbid, I fell in love with you two."

Ed turned to Roy, who was fixing a leveled glare at him. "I love you, Ed. You and Al both. You're like sons to me. And even now I'm still being selfish because through this love a part of me still wants retribution. I hurt so many people, Ed. So many you cant even begin to understand. But then I saw you two; broken and pathetic, and alone, and I wanted to fix things. So let me, Ed. Let me help you, when I couldn't help _them_ long ago. Let me fix my own sins while I help you fix yours."

Ed looked down at himself; broken, pathetic, alone.

"I-" Edward swallowed, his voice catching in his throat and breaking without consent.

Roy stared down at the boy, watching as his eyes shined in the sunset with forming tears. His throat clenched uncomfortably, and he felt a pang of guilt rise in him. "No…Edward, no…" He said, leaving his hand to hover hesitantly in front of the boy's face, stricken dumbfounded on what to say.

People would say that Roy was a man of words, because he had an undoubtedly smooth way of talking. He was the King of Manipulation, the Baron of Concubines, as some envious colleagues would whisper as he walked by. Roy had to disagree. He would just say it as it is. He didn't really believe that he had a special talent for speech. Even just then, when he made his huge, heartfelt message about his love for Ed and Al, he was just saying it as it is. He didn't think of it as flowery or smooth, it was just the truth. He didn't feel he had a suave way of talking and that came especially with comforting. He had never been particularly good at that, no matter who it was. And when Edward turned his glassy eyes away, and forced through his constricted throat, "I thought he would kill you…" he could only close his eyes, and respond with a sullen,

"Me too, kid."

Ed bit his lip and his shoulders loosened, before tensing up again and quivering violently, as tears finally found their way down his cheeks. "I'm scared, Colonel. So scared."

Roy reached forward, weaving his fingers through the hair at the back of Ed's head and pulling him awkwardly to his chest. "I know."

God, Ed had been through so much. Ed was a small guy, but now he looked even smaller than usual. So small was he-frightened, alone, losing spirit-for so long. It was hard to swallow that this was even him to begin with. The light and fire once burning in his bright entrancing eyes had died down, fading the beautiful starry gold into a dull murky amber. The determination and steadfast beat of his voice had ascended to desolate and hopeless. And that's exactly how he looked. He looked like he had given up hope. Looked like somewhere along the way, he had lost the will to live. Given the situation and torture he had been in the past two and a half weeks, it was no wonder. Roy had been the same as the child before him once; dead sunken eyes, lost ambitions, and the constant futile pleading for death to just consume him already. _Take me!_ he had wanted to yell. He had been exactly the same all those years ago. But Roy had made it out. And so would Ed.

"I-I could've taken care of myself, you know. You didn't have to come." Edward insisted again, face blushing with embarrassment after calming himself down.

He pushed himself off Roy's chest, and only then did Roy notice that his hand had unconsciously began stroking Edward's head. Roy pulled his lips into a sad, wry smile "Of course you could. Now get up," he chuckled, forcing himself up and offering his hand out, a sarcastic grin finding its way onto his face. "I don't know what I'd do if you started crying on me."

"Don't flatter yourself... I'm not crying" Edward grunted, reaching up to grab the Colonel's hand.

Roy grabbed the boy's wrists instead, paying mind to Edward's twisted fingers. They looked almost demonic.

"Can you stand?" he asked, as Ed leveled himself onto his automail leg.

"Yeah, I think I'm good. We needa' find a way out of-…Colonel, what the hell?"

Roy looked down to wear Ed's eyes were scanning his broken leg. "Oh yeah. I had a little brawl with Jerone up there. Let's just say he really hates my ass."

Ed frowned, still examining the way Roy's knee twisted inward and blood oozed from a deep slice wound in the shin. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt? You look like hell, Colonel."

"You're telling me. You aren't exactly find and dandy yourself, Fullmetal."

"…shutup. Look at us, limping and toddling around like a bunch of special kids."

"Don't say that, Ed."

Without warning, the door flew up roughly, crashing loudly at the top. They both jumped, as Jerone teetered his way into the room, eyes wide with deranged mirth. "Oh my. You guys have found each other. This is gonna be so much more fun."

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><p><strong>SSOO? you like the cheesy? I don't like the cheesy. This is probably my least favorite chapter -_- but my sis was telling me I needed to add a heart felt confession there, and I didn't really want to make it Yaoi (which I'm sure is what she wanted) So I came up with this. I mean...it kinda fits, right? A lil' OC...yeah...<strong>

**Yeah I don't like when people make fun of autistic/special kids. LEAVE 'EM ALONE!  
><strong>

**I always feel my endings are rushed. Maybe it's just me. It feels like all my chapters end so abruptly without warning...**

**Tell me what you think? Pwease?**


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